


And All The Rest

by LogicGunn



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Accidental Sex Change, First Kiss, First Time, Gender or Sex Swap, Inclusive!Ronon, Jealous!John, M/M, oblivious!John, protective!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-09-07 20:43:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogicGunn/pseuds/LogicGunn
Summary: “After you, Rodney,” he says.“If this is some ladies first nonsense, Colonel, you can shove it up your-”“It’s procedure, Rodney. Don’t make a scene.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rodney plus Ancient Tech equals Accidental Sex Change.
> 
> My plan works out at 6 chapters, but sometimes I write a little more than I intend.
> 
> Bonus points if you can name the song referenced in the title.

The day Rodney goes offworld in a man’s body and returns in a woman’s, John is stuck back on Atlantis. He’s not happy to be left behind, but Carson had made a good point.

“It might just be the common cold to you, but it could become something far more sinister to the natives of Pegasus. I’ll not clear you for offworld excursions until you’re symptom free for forty eight hours.”

Being on Atlantis isn’t the issue; it’s a good opportunity to make a dent in his backlog of paperwork. Mission reports don’t write themselves and some of his men have more than earned his recommendation for promotion. The problem is his team is off world without him and John can’t relax enough to be productive. Ronon’s young and headstrong and sometimes he needs held back a little, and Rodney has a habit of offending people and getting distracted instead of keeping an eye on his surroundings. Between the two of them, missions are more likely to end in disaster than not, and that’s just the ones that  _ they  _ mess up; some missions are already FUBAR before they’ve even stepped through the gate. John sent Major Lorne in his stead to M13-732, an uninhabited world that the database says has an Ancient outpost. Lorne’s more than capable of dealing with any issues, especially with Teyla to back him up, but it’s hard for John to be apart from his team. He’s their leader, if anything happens, he should be with them.

Once the recommendations are done, John makes a start on this week’s ordnance requisition. In every databurst he sends a request for a crate of Zats, but every Daedalus delivery is unsurprisingly lacking in Goa’uld weaponry. He re-requests them anyway because  _ hello, energy weapons _ , and if they can disintegrate the Wraith maybe it’ll level the playing field a little bit, but he’s long since stopped getting his hopes up. They’re lucky to still get deliveries of the basics between the red tape and the Ori tearing the Milky Way apart from one corner to the next.

Elizabeth appears mid-afternoon, carrying a flask of coffee and a plate of jam tarts made with a fluorescent pink Pegasus fruit that tastes like bubble-gum.

“John, I wondered if we could discuss some ideas I have for improving morale.”

It’s the reason she always gives when she wants an excuse to check up on him. He figures that she thinks he’s fed up being left behind and lonely without his team and 2IC, so he accepts it with the intended good will and takes a break from his laptop to talk with her. Besides, the tarts look good.

Elizabeth is regaling him with humorous tales from her time as a diplomat with the UN when Chuck’s voice comes in over the radio.

“Unscheduled off world activation. Doctor Weir and Colonel Sheppard to the gate room.”

They both jump from their chairs and hurry to the nearest transporter. John taps his earpiece.

“This Colonel Sheppard. Report?”

“Major Lorne’s IDC confirmed, sir. Waiting for AR-1 to arrive.”

_ Shit, shit, shit. It’s his team, because of course it is. It always is. What was he thinking letting them go without him? _

If he taps the transporter screen a little hard, Elizabeth is too gracious to say anything.

When they arrive in the control room Lorne and the rest of AR-1 are already through the gate and the on-duty security team have their weapons trained on them. Ronon is squaring off with Sergeant Bale, his gun raised and his face hard, shielding Rodney with his body. Rodney’s arms are waving around behind Ronon’s back as he makes his irritation known in a shrill voice.

John comes to a stop at the foot of the steps, relieved that everyone is standing on their own feet. “What’s the problem here?” he asks.

“There was a complication, sir,” says Lorne.

“That’s one way of putting it,” says Rodney, stepping out from behind Ronon.

“Ma’am, I’m warning you to stop!” yells Sergeant Bale, adjusting his aim.

“Oh for the love of...”

Rodney rolls his eyes and stops walking, putting his hands in the air. He’s in full view of everyone, and John, who has seen dozens of the strangest things since he came to the Pegasus galaxy, is floored. Rodney’s tac vest is unzipped half way down his torso and gaping open over a suspiciously female shaped chest. There are breasts underneath his t-shirt.  _ Breasts. Jesus. _ Rodney notices him staring and crosses his arms awkwardly.

“Doctor McKay had an unfortunate...incident with some technology in the ancient outpost. He has been...changed,” she says, diplomatically.

“Into a woman,” adds Ronon helpfully, spinning his gun into it’s holster with an amused grin on his face.

It’s not just the breasts. Rodney’s face is more feminine, it’s features more delicate and his hairline more forgiving. While it’s open over an expanded chest his tac vest is zipped and hanging looser over a smaller waist and his BDU pants are stretched tight over his hips and thighs. He stands, as he always does, with his arms folded and his hip canted to one side which only emphasises the difference.

“Colonel,” says Rodney, looking pointedly towards the line of guns following him.

“Stand down,” says John, and the security team lower their weapons, though Sergeant Bale is visibly unhappy with the order.

“Are you alright, Rodney?” asks Elizabeth.

“I’m fine Elizabeth. Short version, Ancient lab plus power equals transformation,” says Rodney,  _ and his voice isn’t shrill, it’s higher in pitch. _

“What made you think activating unknown technology was a good idea?”

“I didn’t think it was powered up at the time.”

“Right, I’m thinking infirmary then debrief-”

“Ma’am, we need to confirm the identity of this individual first,” interrupts Sergeant Bale, gripping his P90 tightly.

“Absolutely, and Doctor Beckett can do that in the infirmary,” replies Elizabeth.

“I’m assigning a security detail-”

“No need Sergeant. I’ll escort him myself,” says John.

Sergeant Bale doesn’t look happy, but he acquiesces and hands John his side-arm. John takes it, because discretion really is the better part of valour in the Pegasus galaxy, but he’s sure he doesn’t need it. Yes, the body is a bit different but the attitude is 100% Rodney McKay.

“After you, Rodney,” he says.

“If this is some ladies first nonsense, Colonel, you can shove it up your-”

“It’s procedure, Rodney. Don’t make a scene.”

“Oh, right, of course. Let’s go then.”

Rodney hands his weapons and tablet to an astonished airman, commands him to take the latter to Doctor Zelenka, and strides to the transporter.

“Well, Colonel?” he says, holding the door open.

John rolls his eyes and follows him in. It’s going to be a long evening.

***

"Good news Rodney," says  Carson , looking up from his tablet. “All of your scans came back normal.”

“Good, good,” says Rodney softly. He’s sitting on an examination trolley wearing white scrubs, arms folded and legs swinging. John’s watching them discreetly from the doorway, leaning on the door frame and holding Sergeant Bale’s side arm. He hands it to a passing marine to be returned to the Sergeant. With the Doctor’s affirmation there’s no need for it and he doesn’t have his holster; even the military head of Atlantis can’t go around waving a gun around haphazardly.

“From a medical perspective you have a perfectly healthy female body,” says  Carson . “Everything is where it should be and fully functional. Physiologically and biochemically you're the picture of health.”

Rodney hunches over, staring at his knees. It isn’t his usual hypochondrial posturing, arms gesturing and voice oscillating; it’s a quiet and introspective demeanour despite the restless legs, and it’s so un-Rodney-like that John feels apprehensive.

“What about genetically?” asks Rodney.

“You are still genetically male, your allosomes are still heterogametic, XY. In fact, there are no changes whatsoever to your genome.”

“If I have male genes and a female body, does that mean I’m going to have hormonal issues?”

“You’re post-pubescent so something like Swyer Syndrome has already been overcome. Your oestrogen levels are normal for an adult female. In fact, all your hormones are. My guess is your cells are exclusively transcribing your X chromosome and the Y chromosome is being suppressed somehow.”

Rodney’s legs still and he examines the back of his hands. His hands are still strong, still capable, but they are more elegant; all long fingers and slender wrists. “What about in the future?”

“I don’t have a magic ball, Rodney. I can’t make any guarantees, but my best educated guess is that you won’t have any health problems as a direct result of undergoing this change.”

“Are you sure-”

“Rodney, I’ve treated enough female, trans and intersex patients to know what to look for here. I have no concerns whatsoever about your body as it is, in front of me, right now.”

Rodney finally looks up at  Carson . “Can it be reversed?”

That’s the billion-dollar question, and John is surprised it wasn’t the first question out of Rodney’s mouth. It would have been his.

“I won’t pretend to understand the mechanics behind your transformation, but from a medical standpoint, since you have been successfully transformed from male to female, I see no reason why not. That’s really a question for you and Dr Zelenka.”

Rodney rubs his hands together and hops off the trolley. “Excellent,” he says with a grin. “In that case, I downloaded several hundred gigs of data from the outpost. I’ll be in the lab-”

“Debrief first McKay,” interrupts John, and he’s almost swayed by the look of shocked betrayal that Rodney sends his way. Almost. As they turn to leave Carson touches Rodney’s arm.

“If it’s alright with you Rodney, I want you to pop back tomorrow morning. I’d really like to do some more in-depth, full-body scans. The implications of what you’ve gone through...the impact it could have on gender identity treatments...it’s just staggering.”

Rodney’s face softens at this. “Of course, Carson. I’ll come by after breakfast.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s a big change, Rodney.”
> 
> Rodney's taking it a bit too well.

After one detour to the mess for coffee and an_ almost _detour to the labs they make it to the meeting room for the debrief. (John got distracted by Rodney’s ramblings and it took him three corridors and a transporter ride to realise where he was being led.) Everyone is already there. Elizabeth, Lorne and Teyla are talking quietly at one corner of the table; Ronon is facing the doorway fiddling with his blades, as he tends to do when he’s bored; Radek has two laptops in front of him and is typing furiously into one of them. 

“McKay, Sheppard,” says Ronon as they walk in. 

Elizabeth turns towards them and smiles. “How are you Rodney?” 

“I’m perfectly healthy and still me,” assures Rodney, sitting down and setting his coffee mug on the table. He shifts his hips awkwardly in the seat to get comfortable. 

Elizabeth glances at John and he nods, taking the chair next to Rodney. “I'm glad,” she says, sincerely. “Let’s get started then. M13-732.” 

“Yes ma’am,” says Lorne. He describes the planet (uninhabited, dense jungle, abundant wildlife, hard to traverse) and the mission (outpost 2 klicks south, small lab, lots of Ancient tech) efficiently and calmly. John likes Lorne a lot, he’s a damn fine 2IC; reliable, cool headed, and he’s a decorated marine. The SGC doesn’t hire anyone who isn’t adaptable but some things are hard to unlearn and it’s not easy for a bunch of jarheads to accept a zoomie as their commanding officer. John thinks that having earned the respect of such an experienced marine has improved military cohesion. 

“Most of the tech is data storage,” says Rodney, over the top of his mug. “The outpost’s database is, uh, large to say the least. I downloaded part of it-” 

“Which I am working on now,” says Radek peering over his laptops. 

“-but I didn't have anywhere near enough storage space to get the whole thing.” 

“There are also living quarters off the lab,” adds Teyla. “Large enough for a small group to inhabit.” 

“My guess is that it’s a long-term research post,” says Rodney. “It’s designed in a way that would make sense for a small team to work on one big project over several years, if not decades.” 

“From what I've translated so far, it appears to be a population research laboratory,” says Radek. 

“On an uninhabited planet? That doesn’t seem right,” says Elizabeth. 

“Perhaps...,” says Radek, pushing has glasses up his nose. “We know there are outposts on many inhabited planets. If the Ancients were using _ them _to covertly collect population data-” 

Rodney snaps his fingers and gestures with his coffee mug. “Yes, yes, it would need to be collated somewhere to be analysed-” 

“-somewhere that wouldn’t be interrupted-” 

“-an uninhabited planet makes a good hiding place to study in secret.” 

“Like a galaxy-wide census,” says Ronon. 

“Huh, you had those on Sateda?” asks Rodney. 

“Cheftain was always going on about population growth, tax cuts for having babies, stuff like that.” 

“But why would the Ancients be studying population trends?” asks Teyla. 

“Whatever the reason, it’s a big leap from data collection to sex changing technology,” says Lorne. 

“I can’t have been pure data mining,” says Rodney. He’s pulling at the front of his scrub top absentmindedly, like he can’t get it to sit right. The top is baggy, but the fabric clings to his unfamiliar form in places John doesn't want to think about. 

“Alright,” says Elizabeth. “Back to the issue at hand. Rodney?” 

“There was a workstation in the centre of the lab,” says Roney. “And really it should have had a warning - some stripes or a sign or even just a change in floor colour - because how the hell was I supposed to know I was standing at the business end of it? It looked like a regular console, waiting for a poor unsuspecting scientist to come along and try to figure it out. I was connecting my tablet to it and, uh, the console blinked and...”

“He fainted,” says Ronon, grinning. 

“Not funny Conan,” growls Rodney. 

“Doctor McKay called out, there was a bright light and he was on the floor,” says Teyla. “He was changed.” 

“Did you try to use it to change back?” asks Elizabeth. 

“It didn't work,” says Rodney. “It wouldn’t initialise. I’d like to send some people back to the planet to get the rest of the database and take a look at the console, see if it can be reactivated.” 

“Of course, Rodney. We’ll put together a team tomorrow.” 

“No one with the gene.” 

“I’ll go, Rodney” says Radek, and John thinks it says a lot about their friendship that not once has he made a joke about Rodney’s predicament. 

Lorne turns to Rodney. “You’re taking this really well, Doc.” 

“Of all the things that could happen to me in the Pegasus Galaxy, having a sex change is the least worrying.” 

“Really?” 

“I’m not hurt, prematurely aged, or infected with nanites; my brain, hands and voice are all working perfectly; and I’m still the smartest man in two galaxies.” 

“But you’re...” 

“I’m...?” 

“...a woman.” 

“First of all, what the hell is wrong with being a woman?” growls Rodney “And second of all, I’m not a woman, I’m a man, in a woman’s body, yes, but that doesn’t change anything else about me.” 

“It’s just a heck of a change, that’s all, Doc,” says Lorne placatingly. “I think I’d be struggling with it a lot more than you are.” 

Rodney shrugs his shoulder. “Eh. It’s probably reversible. If it isn’t, I’ll adapt. Plenty of people live with gender dysphoria.” 

Elizabeth clears her throat. “Well then, it’s getting late, I think that’s enough for now. We’ll send a team tomorrow to investigate.” 

“I’ll be in-” 

“Your room, Rodney,” says Elizabeth. “You should rest. The data will still be there in the morning.” 

"I will Elizabeth, but I'd like to get some searches for specific terms set up for overnight and I have a couple of simulations I need to check on.” 

“Alright, alright, but not too long Rodney. I don’t want you pulling an all-nighter after the events of today.” 

Rodney and Radek rush to leave the meeting room, carrying a laptop each, ideas bouncing back and forth between them. As they walk through the door together, Rodney bangs his hip –_ Ow! _\- and rubs at the offending flesh with a bewildered look. Ronon nods at John then follows Elizabeth and Teyla out, but Lorne hangs back and waits for John, looking apprehensive. 

“Sir, do you have a minute?” he says. 

“Sure. What's up?” 

Lorne fixes his eyes on a point over John’s shoulder. “I just wanted to apologise, sir. I take full responsibility for what happened on M13-732.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Major.” 

“I was in charge sir.” 

“Rodney’s a loose cannon at the best of times. Things like this happen when he’s around and Ancient technology is always unpredictable. Besides, he’s taking it really well.” 

Lorne looks at John. “Yes sir, as are you,” he says carefully, and John realises there’s some other meaning hidden in his words, another layer to their conversation that he’s not privy to. 

“I wasn’t on the mission,” he says slowly. “But if I had been, nothing would have happened differently. You're not to blame Evan.” 

Lorne pauses, he looks like he’s waiting for John to say something else. When John doesn't, he nods. “Yes sir.” 

John claps Lorne on the shoulder and heads to the transporter to take him to the lab. He knows Rodney said he was fine, but what Rodney says and what he feels aren’t always the same thing. 

*** 

This late in the evening the labs are always quiet, not because it’s empty but because everyone is typing up reports after a day of research and experimentation. Tonight, there’s a buzz of low-level activity and conversation, an excitable hum reverberating out into the corridor. When John enters the main lab, Rodney and Radek are still debating, connecting their laptops to the server at the back of the room. They are either oblivious or completely ignoring the looks Rodney is being given by their colleagues and the whispered exclamations echoing around the room. 

“Oh my god, it’s true, it’s actually...” 

“...looks like a woman? But...” 

“...think he’ll be any nicer?” 

Kavanagh, of course, can always be counted on to take things a step too far. “McKay’s uglier as a woman, who would have thought?” he says loudly. 

Rodney and Radek look up at this but Ronon’s voice booms from the doorway behind John before they – or John - can respond in kind. 

“You’re still hot, McKay.” 

_ Yes, he is, _ thinks John. _ Wait, what?! _

“Good to know, Ronon,” says Rodney, and he smirks at Kavanagh. “Do you know, I think I might actually be smarter now? Maybe I’ll replace all the men on my staff with women.” 

Everyone laughs except Kavanagh, who sulks and moves to exit the lab. He’s forced to squeeze past Ronon, who is leaning casually against the doorframe, deliberately taking up too much room. 

“I appreciate the sentiment Ronon, but I am actually fine,” says Rodney. “I know how to handle my staff.” 

“Just making sure,” says Ronon. “See you at breakfast.” 

“See you,” says Rodney. He turns to John. “Colonel, was there something you needed?” 

John’s still reeling from his thoughts. He fumbles for something to say, mindful of the other people in the lab, pausing a little too long. Rodney looks at him with increasing concern, then his eyes widen in something like understanding and he nods to his personal lab. “I’ll just be a minute,” he says. 

Rodney’s lab is quiet, just a rhythmic whir of computing equipment running overtime in the background. John sits on a stool, knowing from experience not to touch anything lying on the tables. The whole room is meticulously organised. People who don’t know Rodney expect his workspace to be a chaotic mess, but Rodney is obsessive about order because his projects tend to be important to Atlantis’s success, and often imperative their survival. ‘A place for everything’ is an understatement. There are multiple laptop stations, each dedicated to a single task. Carefully labelled boxes are stacked along the back wall, and anything not in a box is wrapped in its own Athosian hide pouch – gifts from Teyla for the various projects Rodney has done to help the Athosians (something he never, ever, brags about). 

When Rodney walks in, John is thrown by the head on view of his gait. Rodney’s robust, masculine strides are distorted by his wide, feminine hips. There’s a battle between Rodney’s muscle memory and his new frame, leaving him awkward and clumsy. His hip scrapes against the entryway, again, and Rodney scowls at the frame like it’s a Wraith as he closes the door. John still doesn't know what to say, hasn’t even figured out what to think, but he doesn't have to because Rodney abhors silence and he speaks first. 

“I know what you’re going to say, Sheppard, but I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m fine. Yes, it’s weird, but it could be a whole lot worse.” 

John scrubs his jaw. “I know, it’s just...” 

“Mmm.” 

“It’s a big change, Rodney.” 

“Yeah.” Rodney looks down and kicks mindlessly at the foot of his desk. “I, uh, there are things I’m not looking forward to but...well...I’ll figure it out.” 

“Of course you will.” 

Rodney tugs at the top again, and John has to suppress the impulse to reach out and smooth it down. He sounds confident, but he looks a little lost and the familiar need to comfort him is overwhelming. 

Rodney looks up at him. “Right, well I guess...” 

“Yeah.” 

“See you in the morning then.” 

“Sure, buddy. Night.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yes, thank you, foremost expert on wormhole physics here!”
> 
> Ronon is inclusive and Rodney verbally kicks ass.

John dreams. Of alien ritual chambers bathed in water and light with glittering effigies of every disappointed CO in stark relief; the taste of Teyla’s Tuttleroot soup, synonymous with home; and Rodney in his bathrobe (gaping open over his very naked, very female body), kissing Carson with such ferocity they ignite a corona of energy, glowing at the heart of the gate-room. He wakes up hard, on the edge, a faint taste of coffee fading from inside his mouth. 

***

Rodney slams his breakfast tray down on the table so hard the rest of the mess look over. John’s already warned the military population not to stare, and he assumes the scientists know better, so no-one's gaze lingers overlong. 

“Can I revise my earlier statement? I’m so not fine. I had a shower this morning. It was a disaster.” 

“Good morning to you too McKay,” drawls John, putting on his most irritating smirk, the one that brings Rodney out in righteous hives. He loves poking the bear. 

Rodney flaps his hands and sits down. “Yes, yes, good morning Colonel.” 

“What’s up with your shower?” 

“I...um...fell over.” 

“You what?” 

“I fell over! I kept banging into things, I’m wider in places I shouldn’t be and I got all...” Rodney gestures with his fork. 

“Panicky?” says Ronon around a mouthful of not-bacon. 

“...and I fell out of the shower and onto the floor.” 

“Are you hurt, Rodney?” asks Teyla. 

“I wrenched my shoulder on the way down. My breasts are getting in the way of everything.”  _ And isn’t that the truth, _ thinks John. Rodney’s t-shirt is stretched over them indecently; it’s all John can do to keep his eyes up. Rodney puts his fork down and fiddles with his coffee mug. 

“It has been less than a day,” says Teyla. “It will take time to adapt.” 

“Well, it’s not like I’m unfamiliar with the female form, I just wish I didn’t keep banging into everything. I had to move my furniture so it wouldn’t assault me in the night. I can’t even get through a door without bruising something.” 

They eat and make companionable small talk. Rodney goes up for a second cup of coffee (narrowly avoiding a hip-related disaster with Doctor Simpson) but barely touches his breakfast, nibbling his toast and picking at his eggs with his fork. John studies him with furtive glances. He’s well rested and not nearly as freaked out as he would be with something less radical than a complete sex change, but that’s Rodney all over; it’s the end of the world if he gets a flesh wound but if doom and disaster really are bearing down on them he’s all competent pragmatism, pulling a miracle out of his ass, bitching the whole time but saving the day. 

“You should eat something, McKay,” badgers Ronon. 

“Not really hungry,” says Rodney. 

“Fair enough. So how do you feel about pronouns?” 

“Oh my god, have you been taking sensitivity classes again?” 

Ronon grins, undeterred. “I’m just making sure McKay.” 

“I’m still a guy, breasts and...lady-parts notwithstanding.” 

“Cool. He and him it is.” Ronon grabs Rodney’s tray and attacks the eggs.

Teyla looks at John and they both smile behind their cups. Ronon has been making an effort to learn about Earth customs, but instead of the obvious things (like art and history) he’s taken an interest in the finer, more nuanced aspects of Tau’ri identity. He’s started to asking people what pronouns they prefer when he first meets them, which has delighted some and confused others. He defaults to ‘they’ when he hasn't asked, and has already checked (and remembered) the preference of every single member of the expedition. Ironically, people assume it’s a Satedan custom and the anthropologists hound him constantly for an insight into the personal and social identities of Satedans. 

Cadman saunters up to the table (“... _ she, obviously, you don’t need to ask for her pronouns, she’s been in my head...”  _ ). She nods to John then looks at Rodney. “McKay, what do you think you’re doing?” 

Rodney sighs and turns to face her. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m having breakfast.” 

Cadman rolls her eyes, something she picked up from her time inside McKay’s brain. “Obviously, but you can't go around like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“Braless.” 

“...I can’t?” 

“Nope. It’s unseemly.” 

“Oh, I...uh...I didn’t know that. Um...I don’t have one.” 

“Come on, there are enough women on Atlantis, we’ll find you one.” 

Rodney stares at her a moment with his mouth open, a look of abject horror on his face. “Can’t I just have one of yours?” 

“Sure, if it fits. Which I don’t think it will. You have fuller breasts than me.” 

Rodney pales at this. “Oh my god...” 

“C’mon McKay. Let’s go!” 

Rodney gives into the whirlwind that is Laura Cadman, who looks all but amused, and they bicker all across the mess. When they get to the door a marine is holding it open with his arm. Rodney’s voice carries back to John, sarcasm set to maximum. 

“Yes, thank you, because we have no hands of our own!” 

John snorts into his coffee. The marines aren’t going to find McKay any more docile than before. 

***

Morning means meetings; security updates with Sergeant Bale  _ (I didn’t mean to startle Doctor McKay, sir, I was just doing my job) _ , rostering with Major Lorne  _ (How is your geek holding up, sir?) _ , mission scheduling with Elizabeth _ (John, how is Rodney?) _ and disciplinary actions with wayward airmen  _ (Sir, yessir!) _ . As he steps out of his office to answer a summons by Radek to “please come to the lab at your earliest convenience” - and John knows it’s bad when Radek starts talking the Queen’s English – it occurs to him that he has spent the whole morning fielding questions about Rodney. Which isn’t remarkable in and of itself; it’s the familiarity of the event that makes it noteworthy. He is  _ always  _ being asked about Rodney by  _ everyone _ , even before this latest catastrophe; from Elizabeth to Lorne to the cooks preparing their food three times a day, he’s likely to be greeted with some version of  _ How is Doctor McKay _ ? Even various Athosians will ask after Rodney if John visits without him. As though John without Rodney is an anomaly, an erroneous event, and Rodney must be in his thoughts whenever he is not in his presence. 

John hears Rodney’s voice the second the transporter doors open and he knows,  _ knows _ , that whoever roused his ire is on the next transport back on the Daedelus. He rounds the corner to find Rodney standing face to face with one of his scientists, Donaldson, in the corridor outside the lab. Radek and Doctors Kusanagi and Simpson are peering through lab's doorway. 

"Yes,  _ thank you _ , foremost expert on wormhole physics here!” 

“You might be the head of the science department but that doesn’t mean you are always right!” 

“It has fuck all to do with being the head of the department and everything to do with being the smartest person here,  _ and _ having 15 years of practical experience with the SGC to. Back. Me Up!” 

“Your arrogance knows no-” 

“MY arrogance? If we routed the Zed-PM's power through the stargate  _ your  _ way we’d trigger a perpetual wormhole next time we dialled out, quite possibly tearing a literal hole through the fabric of the universe in the process! If you weren’t so busy feeling impotent because you can’t accept that someone with a vulva is smarter than you, you’d have seen that! Your theory is  _ flawed _ , your calculations are  _ wrong _ , and your attitude is  _ a hundred years out of date!  _ Pack your things, you’re done on Atlantis.” 

Rodney finishes with a flurry of hand gestures and Donaldson gets right up in his face and pokes him in the chest. 

“Doctor Weir is in charge here, not you. You can’t just send people away who disagree with you.” 

It’s time for John to intervene. Donaldson’s body is screaming for a fight, and though Rodney would never punch first, if forced to defend himself he can do a lot of damage, even in an unfamiliar body. Ronon has been training him in unarmed combat three times a week, come hell or high water, and if Donaldson goes down like a sack of potatoes the IOA will have to get involved. 

“Break it up guys.” 

“Colonel, make him see reason!” says Donaldson. 

“It’s Doctor McKay’s department, he hired you, he can fire you. Nothing myself or Elizabeth can do about that.” 

“Ugh...of course you take  _ his  _ side. I don’t know why I expected impartiality from  _ you _ .” 

“How about you  _ don’t  _ disrespect the military commander of this base?” snaps Rodney, which is hilarious coming from him. “Miko, I’m assigning you Donaldson’s projects, you can delegate them as you see fit.” 

“You can’t just send me away!” 

“Tell you what, if you write out a 5000-word paper on historically underappreciated women in science, I’ll consider letting you stay.” 

“This isn’t grad school!” 

“No, it’s Atlantis, where even a minuscule error can kill the whole expedition. Had I known you’d balk at working under me if I was female, I wouldn’t have hired you. You can go anywhere that isn’t restricted until the Daedalus comes, but I don’t want to see you in the labs.” 

***

True to his word, Rodney reconsiders his stance the next day when presented with a (precisely) 5000-word essay on Caroline Herschel, Mary Somerville, Katherine Johnson, Rosalind Franklin and Chien-Shiung Wu. It was accompanied by an elegantly handwritten apology and a corrected version of the offending calculations, which Rodney used to improve the ZedPM-Stargate energy flow. Rodney read the essay out loud in its entirety while laying on John’s sofa, legs hanging over the end. John was pretending to listen, and pretending to polish his golf clubs, while watching Rodney snort his way through the essay. 

“This is actually a good paper. I wonder who he bribed to write it for him?” 

“Or, here’s a thought, maybe he wrote it?” 

“I can’t see Donaldson wasting his time like that. Maybe someone owed him a favour. If he’d known so much about these women he never would have had such a snit. You know it’s almost funny, he’s never, ever, not once, balked at being corrected by me. He knows how important it is to get things right. And he usually is. It’s quite the eye opener, seeing how he reacted differently to me this time.” 

“Do you think you might have overreacted?” 

Rodney drops the paper on his chest and looks at John. “Colonel, you had better not be implying what I think you’re implying.” 

“What?” says John, putting on his best “ _ who me?”  _ face. “I’ve always accused you of being hormonal, Rodney, that’s not going to change now.” 

“No, it isn’t, is it.” Rodney furrows his brow. “You know you’re the only one who isn’t treating me any differently.” 

“That’s because you’re not any different. Not really.” John hesitates. “I don’t  _ feel  _ differently about you.” 

“Huh. Well that’s...” 

“Yeah. So. Chien-Shiung Wu?” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sorry about that, just a little turbulence.”
> 
> John is an idiot and Rodney is absolutely not in a mood.

John makes an absolutely colossal error in judgement on their first post-transformation trip to the mainland; a small, safe trade mission to the Athosian settlement to exchange medical supplies for food and ease them back into things. 

“So, McKay,” he says, as they exit the jumper. “Do you want to switch up the sleeping arrangements, put you with Teyla and-.” 

He realises his mistake before he even finishes and he inwardly cringes. Rodney, predictably, is far from impressed. 

“What, having breasts means I suddenly have the urge for a sleepover? Should I braid Teyla’s hair and paint her nails?” 

“No, wait, I didn’t mean-” 

“I’m not sharing with Teyla just because I no longer have a dick, Colonel. But I will share with her because I don’t want to sleep next to a closet misogynist. I honestly thought things weren’t different between us. Clearly I was mistaken.” 

Rodney storms off to catch up with Teyla and Ronon. From the carefully neutral look Teyla throws over her shoulder, John knows he has more than one apology to make before they get back to Atlantis. 

It goes downhill from there. 

Things get a little rowdy in the evening, as they tend to do when any of the Atlanteans and Athosians get together. Despite Rodney’s legion of sub-zero glares, John is standing close enough to hear him get invited to dance by Halling, who seems to be taking Rodney’s change in his stride. 

“I’m not nearly drunk enough,” says Rodney, waving his drink around. Then he pauses. “Ask me again in an hour?” 

And Halling does. He comes back after an hour has passed, when Rodney is three more drinks down, and Rodney grabs the offered hand and lets himself be pulled over towards the makeshift dance floor. It starts off in the way that drunken dancing always does, missteps and accidental elbow jabs, but ends up something synchronised and sexy, set to the beat of an Athosian drum. Halling leads, throwing Rodney round and swinging him in one direction then the next. Rodney is all shimmying hips and suggestive neck angles and strong thighs and raw energy, and it occurs to John that this isn’t the first time Rodney has been led around the dance floor. He is clearly content to follow and it isn’t intrinsic to a greater waist-hip-ratio, it’s born of experience. It makes John wonder how many other men Rodney has danced with before. He’d like to ask but Rodney hasn’t spoken to him all day and, true to his word, when John goes to his tent later in the evening Rodney isn’t there. Ronon’s sitting on a sleeping bag with a flask of Radek’s moonshine, which he offers to John with an apologetic look. 

“Rodney asked me to switch up.” 

John tries to be good-humoured (it isn’t Ronon’s fault after all) but he knows he’s messed up and Rodney’s not going to just let it go. In the morning he decides to take Rodney and Teyla some coffee and tea to smooth things over, but when he enters the other tent Teyla’s alone, sitting on her sleeping bag sorting through her Tac-Vest. She accepts the tea for the apology they both know it is. 

“John, you should talk to Rodney.” 

“Yeah, I will. Do you know where he is?” 

“He was gone when I woke up. Actually, I have not seen him since he danced with me, I was asleep before he came to bed.” 

It’s not unusual for Rodney to be up and about long before everyone else, but it usually means he’s breaking the laws of physics in his lab, having woken up with some new understanding at 0430. Since there’s no lab on the mainland, John isn’t sure where he would be. He wonders around the camp, finds Rodney, finally, at the beach talking with Halling, who astutely leaves them alone when John approaches. Rodney accepts the coffee with a little less grace than Teyla, and John feels compelled to explain. 

“Rodney, nothing has changed, I swear. I don’t have a problem with this. I didn’t mean I don’t_ want _to share a tent with you, there’s no one I’d rather share with. I just thought you might be more comfortable changing in front of Teyla. I’ve lived with and slept next to female airmen for the whole of my military career. I was just trying to be considerate and give you options, let you know that if you need to change anything, I’ll do whatever I can.” 

Rodney sips his coffee and says nothing, just looks at over the top of his mug at John with a pointed expression. 

“What I mean is...I’m sorry, Rodney.” 

“Yeah, alright, I get it. Keep your pants on, Colonel.” 

It isn’t until the jumper is up in the sky - full of tuttleroots and tea leaves - that it occurs to John that Rodney might not have gone back to his tent at all last night. Rodney and Halling looked kind of...cosy this morning on the beach. The thought sends a cramp down his arms, causing him to jerk the jumper in the air. 

“Sorry about that, just a little turbulence.” 

Rodney, who knows that the jumper's inertial dampeners counteract everything but the most violent thrashing, looks at him but says nothing, and when they get back, John doesn’t ask him about Halling or the dancing, but it’s a near thing. 

*** 

The next couple of days are a blur of motion. The Daedalus is due soon and everyone is making space for deliveries or prepping samples and writing personal letters to go back to Earth. John knows for a fact that Rodney hasn’t told Jeannie about his change and he’s tried to convince him that it would be a good idea but Rodney refuses point blank. 

“Radek’s working on the console day and night, Colonel. I don’t want to worry Jeannie over something that might be fixed soon. If it becomes a permanent change then I’ll tell her. Otherwise, she has enough to worry about without adding something that isn't actually harming me.” 

Rodney spends a lot of his free time alone with Teyla. He has always made time for her, because even though he doesn’t say it she’s the person he respects the most, but this time it’s Teyla clearing her schedule for him. John’s not sure what they’re doing, but he suspects whatever it is involves a lot of stuttering questions and sensitive answers. He knows that it’s helping Rodney, a lot, because incidents with other people are becoming less frequent and less volatile. 

(One memorable morning, John goes to the lab to find Rodney yelling at a marine: 

“I’m sorry, did I lose my arms when I lost my dick?” he snatches a box from the marine’s arms. “Does it look like I can’t carry a box by myself?” 

“Sorry, ma’am-” The marine winces, so does John. “-uh, sir! I mean Doctor McKay, sir. I was only trying to help!” 

“Well...hm...okay, maybe I was a bit...you do seem pretty strong and able, perhaps I wasn’t...well, here.” Rodney hands the box back. “It’s needed in the infirmary.” 

“Yes sir, I’ll take it there right now.” 

“Great, that’s great. Tell Doctor Beckett it’s fixed and can he...please...be more careful with it because we’re running out of spare parts for it.” 

“Yes sir.” 

“Okay, that’s...good. Um...thank you.” 

As the marine walks down the corridor outside the lab, Rodney calls after him. 

“I expect this kind of help to continue when I get my body back!” 

“Yes sir! You can count on me!”) 

When the Daedalus arrives, it’s obvious that news of Rodney’s incident has spread throughout the SGC, and it seems like everyone who’s anyone decides to come down to Atlantis “for RnR”. The labs are awash with wide-eyed scientists and military personnel, including Colonel Caldwell (though he barely bats an eye at Rodney’s transformation: he's more interested in some Ancient weapon specs that Rodney uncovered). Even Hermiod beams down to talk to Rodney. 

(_ What is it like, Doctor McKay, to change sex?) _

One morning, out of the blue, Rodney’s congeniality vanishes in a flurry of pointed comments. Someone left a bunch of flowers on his desk and he flipped out (“Right because when I got a vagina it cured my hay fever!”); someone else talked over him in a meeting and he went ballistic (“Hello, were you listening? I literally just said that!”); and one of his scientists made a mistake in a set of calculations for the puddlejumper underwater pressure simulations and he outdid himself with the snark (“No, no, no, you’re a moron. Did you even graduate from high school? Sit down, shut up and take notes from someone who actually knows what he’s talking about.”). It gets so bad Elizabeth asks John to have a quiet word with him, delegating her responsibility because like everyone, she believes that John is immune to Rodney’s wrath. The truth is John just knows it’s a necessary outlet and he doesn’t let it get personal, but he has to admit this is bad, even for Rodney. He decides to talk to him in the mess; things always go better with Rodney when there’s pudding. 

“S’up McKay?” 

“Nothing.” 

Rodney’s tearing his bread roll into little pieces so it’s clearly not ‘nothing’. “You sure?” 

“Yup.” 

“You’ve been a little...tetchy.” 

“I’m always tetchy.” 

“Not like this.” 

“What do you want me to say, Colonel?” 

“Just whatever is on your mind, Rodney. People are worried about you.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“I am!” 

“Right, that’s why you dialled a space-gate and threw a bouquet through the event horizon.” 

Rodney ducks his head. “Okay, possibly not my finest moment.” 

“So...” 

“So?” 

“What’s up?” 

“I’m menstruating.” 

“Ah.” 

“I have even less tolerance for stupidity than I usually do and that’s saying something.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” 

“Can you shoot the stupid people for me?” 

“No can do, buddy.” 

“Hmm.” 

“You need some Advil? Chocolate? Bubble bath?” 

“Wait, you have bath bubbles?!” 

“No, but I know someone who does.” 

“I took some Advil. It didn’t help. I feel like I have a pneumatic drill in my pelvis.” 

“Right. So, here, have my pudding cup, go see Carson about some stronger pain relief, and I'll bring by some bath stuff later.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

“I think...I think I’m going to cry.” 

“Maybe wait until you’re in the bath, buddy. See you in half an hour.” 

Rodney grabs the pudding cup and sets off to the infirmary. John isn’t sure what he’s going to have to trade Chuck for the bath stuff (he always drives a hard bargain despite being such a nice guy) but it’ll be worth it to wipe the frown off Rodney’s face. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We don’t speak for Rodney. You can ask if you want to, but the answer’s probably going to be no.” 
> 
> Rodney gets a proposition, and John is out of touch with his feelings.

Elizabeth finally clears them for a real mission a week later when it’s evident that Rodney is having no other effects from the incident. John can tell she’s a little nervous about the prospect; as the only non-combat civilian, Rodney has always been the most vulnerable member of AR-1, and though he seems confident in himself -  _ I’ve never done science with my dick, Elizabeth  _ \- there’s no way to predict if there will be any issues in the field as a result of appearing female. Pegasus is a lot like the Milky Way in that women are generally more vulnerable than men, and though there have been relatively few gender-based issues with Teyla (probably because not many people are dumb enough to mess with her), there have been enough near misses for Elizabeth’s concern to be justifiable. Still, the whole team is eager to get off Atlantis and stretch their legs, both literally and figuratively. Rodney picks a planet from the Ancient database at random, designated M2A-983. It’s a large planet on the other side of the galaxy, orbiting a G dwarf star much like Sol and sitting smack bang in the middle of the habitable zone of the planetary system. 

John, Teyla and Ronon are geared up and ready to go on time, but Rodney rushes into the Gateroom ten minutes late -  _ sorry, sorry, it’s morons-R-us day in the lab  _ \- struggling to zip his Tac-Vest which has caught on the fabric of his uniform top. When he fails to get it unstuck, John swings his P90 behind his back and grabs the zip, yanking it down hard a few times before it tugs free of the fabric. He zips it right up to the top, carefully pulling the vest away from Rodney’s chest so it won’t catch again, then makes a start on the straps at the side, tightening them over Rodney’s waist and tucking them in so they won’t get snagged on anything off world. It’s not until he’s gone to one knee in front of Rodney to tighten his holster straps that John realises the whole Gateroom is staring at them. He feels his face heat up as he snaps the clasp back into place, and he’s thankful when Rodney shouts at everyone -  _ Have none of you ever done a buddy-check?!  _ \- breaking the tension and sending everyone scurrying back to what they were doing. He tucks the holster strap in and when Rodney offers a hand to pull him up, he takes it gratefully. Rodney doesn't say anything about John publicly feeling him up, but John can feel his eyes on the back of his head as Elizabeth orders the gate dialed. 

They send a M.A.L.P. through which is immediately accosted by a gang of dusty, giggling children of various ages clad in oversized, colourful tunics, who touch the camera lens with sticky fingers, taking turns hanging from the hydraulic arm and sitting on the top. The Stargate sits in the centre of a large marketplace, rows and rows of stalls as far as the eye can see, draped in bright fabric awnings and laden with everything from produce and curios to clothing and weapons. By the time AR-1 walks through the gate a sizeable crowd has surrounded the M.A.L.P.; women and men both young and old, all dressed in the same tunics as the kids and waving at them with big smiles. The ground is cracked and dusty and their boots and BDU’s are already covered in a fine layer of dirt even though they’re only walked half a dozen steps. An older woman steps forward from the crowd to meet them, ringlets of dark hair shot through with grey framing a darkly tanned face, creased from a long life of expressed joy. 

“Greetings friends! Welcome to Elphii. I am Pherea, Prime Administrator of the Elphiian marketplace.” 

“I am Teyla Emmagan. These are my teammates, Colonel John Sheppard, Doctor Rodney McKay and Ronon Dex. We are explorers from Atlantis.” 

“We have never had visitors from a place called Atlantis before. You are the first. It is always a good day when we greet new friends. You are gladly received.” 

“Thank you. We are honoured by your welcome.” 

As Teyla enquires into the local customs and laws (after too many cultural misunderstandings, Elizabeth and Teyla made this SOP for visits to new planets), John and Ronon pivot to check the perimeter. Out of the corner of his eye, John sees Rodney lean down and loosen his thigh holster a little, then pull out his scanner, turning around slowly. The market is massive, busy and  _ loud.  _ There are vendors calling out, people haggling, parents telling their kids to  _ climb down right now!  _ Fountains are dotted around gushing out sprays of fine mist, which is a relief because it is hot. Hot like the inside of a car in August and any minute now Rodney is going to- 

“Could it get any hotter, Colonel?” 

-bitch at John like it’s his fault, like he can control the weather and went with scorched earth today just to inconvenience him. Predictably, once the adults are otherwise engaged the children flock to the grumbling scientist like bees to honey, pawing at his trousers and Tac-Vest, pulling at his arms and giggling, asking innocent questions and clinging to his legs. It’s happened often enough they have an SOP for this too: Rodney sighs, unclips his firearm and hands it to John, then takes out half a dozen chocolate bars and breaks them into pieces, dividing them evenly amongst the kids. It’s probably for the best; even heat-stabilized chocolate isn’t going to last long here. 

“She is very good with children,” says a quiet voice from behind John. It’s a middle-aged man, tall and broad, a head of thick, ginger hair, a dark green tunic hanging from sturdy, freckled shoulders and gently curving over an expanding paunch; another face with a lifetime of laughter etched onto it. 

“Children seem to like Rodney wherever we go,” says Ronon. 

“I wonder...” says the man. “...is she available?” 

“Excuse me?” says John. 

“For procreation.” 

“You want to have babies with McKay?!” 

“I’d like to offer a formal contract of breeding. Two children; one for me and one for her if she wishes. I’d prefer the firstborn, male or female, but I’m willing to negotiate.” 

John has many responses to that, ranging from  _ no  _ to  _ hell no  _ to  _ fuck no  _ to  _ are you out of your goddamned mind _ , but he’s saved from causing a diplomatic incident two minutes through the gate (which would break Lorne’s long-held record of four minutes) by Ronon, who schools his face into an expression of pleasant indifference. 

“We don’t speak for Rodney. You can ask if you want to, but the answer’s probably going to be no.” 

“Well, just in case, my name is Andrel, I run the leatherworks on the north side of the market. If you would be so kind as to pass on my offer, she would be very welcome to visit to discuss terms if she is interested. I come from a long line of healthy stock. My father was a warrior. With her child-birthing hips and those beautiful eyes our children would be exceptional.” 

With that he disappears into the bustling crowds, and John is left feeling hollow and sucker punched. He tries to swallow but his throat is dry from the heat of the planet and his outrage. 

“You okay Sheppard?” asks Ronon. “You seem a bit butthurt.” 

John swings his head to Ronon. “Butthurt?! Okay, that’s it. You're spending too much of your spare time with the marines. I’m cutting you off.” 

“If you say so.” 

Rodney shakes off the last of the kids and comes over, brushing dirt off his BDUs. “What did he want?” 

“I’ll tell you later,” says Ronon, and it’s clear how much Rodney has come to trust Ronon over the years because he accepts this without fuss. “Expect more offers,” Ronon says quietly to John. “For everyone, but especially for McKay.” 

Teyla finishes up with Pherea and comes back to them. “Prime Administrator Pherea has agreed to act as a broker between Atlantis and the local traders for bulk trade agreements. I believe she will ensure every agreement is fair for all parties. She has invited me to her home to discuss the details. You are all welcome to accompany us or to look around the marketplace.” 

“Well, you never know when you’re going to come across a piece of dormant Ancient tech in a place like this,” says Rodney. “I’d like to take a look around.” 

Teyla looks pointedly at Rodney. “Rodney, listen to me. Do not enter into any trade agreements with anyone. It would be easy to cause offence or to accidentally enter into an agreement not in your favour, so be very careful what you say and to whom. If there is anything of interest I will negotiate on your behalf after meeting with Pherea.” 

“I'll stay with him,” says Ronon. 

John wants to stay with Rodney too, doesn’t want anyone else approaching him about procreation or anything else without being there to keep an eye, but he’s the team leader and his place is in the negotiations. He can’t insist Rodney comes with - Rodney is terrible at negotiating, he’s liable to agree to things just to get it over with - and John knows he can’t justify leaving it to Teyla alone. Ronon is more than capable of watching Rodney's six; John will just have to suck it up. 

“Alright Mckay. Think you can keep your mouth shut till we get back?” 

Rodney mimes zipping up his mouth and turns back to his scanner. That will have to do. John hands Rodney’s gun back, then dials Atlantis to send back the M.A.L.P and inform Elizabeth of their plans. She asks for caution, but trusts Teyla’s judgement when it comes to trade on behalf of Atlantis. As he follows Teyla and Pherea, he watches McKay and Ronon disappear out of sight. The urge to follow twists his stomach in knots and hammers a beat behind his ribs, but he doesn’t relent. He’s spent the whole of his adult life training to overrule his gut instincts, this is just more of the same.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wow. Two propositions in one day?” 
> 
> Negotiations and negotiations. Also, BAMF John.

Negotiations with Pherea are pleasant and singularly quick; Teyla was right, she seems interested in fair trading and John can’t sense any deception from her. She’s a master at her vocation, suggesting three-way trade deals (and one spectacular five-way deal) where there are discrepancies between what her traders have and need vs what Atlantis has and needs. She agrees to take their proposals to the individual traders while John and Teyla take them back to Atlantis. John knows Elizabeth is going to be pleased with what they have accomplished. It will be nice to take back a good trade agreement instead of the bullet wounds, stab wounds, broken limbs and concussions that usually occur on their first-contact missions. 

Despite how well things have gone here, John is anxious to get back to Rodney and Ronon to make sure nothing has happened and that Rodney hasn’t sublet his womb-space for a map to a ZPM. He’s still disproportionately angry about Andrel’s proposal, like Rodney’s body was an object to be bartered, and the thought of anyone putting their hands on him in that way is cramping his limbs and twisting his gut (he’s still not asked about Halling), and he knows it’s unreasonable for him to be so worked up about it but deep breaths and rational thought are doing nothing to help. 

Teyla says goodbye to Pherea with well-received Athosian forehead press, and John introduces her to a good old-fashioned handshake. They head back to the marketplace, squeezing between crowds of shoppers and bickering families. It’s not hard to find Rodney and Ronon; they just have to follow their noses to a nearby stall selling street food; flatbreads filled with bitesize morsels of fried meats and vegetables. To no-one's surprise, both Rodney and Ronon are eating, but to John’s amazement Rodney is deep in conversation with another man, this one in a purple tunic, clean shaven and blonde hair cropped short. 

“You want me to have your children?” 

“Yes! I’d be honoured. I’ll be extremely generous with provisions for both of our children, neither of them will want for anything. I have a successful timber business; it’s been in my family for 11 generations.” 

“Well that’s very kind of you but-” 

“All I ask is you consider my proposal. Nothing more.” 

“Alright, sure. I’ll keep you in mind,” says Rodney diplomatically, and the man smiles and walks off, back to his logging no doubt. He takes another bite and turns until he spots John and Teyla. “Hey, how’d the negotiations go?” 

“They went very well, Rodney,” says Teyla with a smile. 

“What did  _ he  _ want?” asks John, feeling a little of his venom slipping out. 

“Rysell? He wants me to have his babies,” says Roney, and  _ how can he say that like it’s no big deal?  _ “Is that what the other man wanted before?” 

“Yeah,” says Ronon. 

“Wow. Two propositions in one day?” 

“There’ll be more.” 

“Huh.” Rodney looks at the crowd behind him where Rysell just disappeared. 

John knows that look, it’s a look of consideration, and he’ll be damned if this is going to be more than a fleeting thought. “McKay!” 

“Yes Colonel?” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“What?” 

“You know damn well what.” 

“But-” 

“No. Not happening.” 

“I just think-” 

“Well, stop thinking!” 

“Not for me! I don’t intend to have this body long enough. Just...look I’m not suggesting we set up 1-800-rent-a-womb, Colonel, but we’ve caused so much destruction in this galaxy, maybe we should offer the chance for people on Atlantis to do some good? You know, some people might actually want to contribute something more tangible that theoretical physics and bullet holes.” 

“Teyla, talk some sense into him.” 

“I find Rodney to be perfectly rational, John,” says Teyla. “It is common for people to set up procreative contracts in Pegasus. Sometimes after a culling the people left behind are too closely related. This isn’t an unreasonable request. I believe in Rodney’s case it would be unwise, but if others from Atlantis wished to contribute genetically, it would be very welcome to many.” 

“Rodney has something people will pay a lot for,” says Ronon. 

“What?” asks Rodney. 

“Your eyes. They’re blue.” 

“Is that special?” 

“Never seen anyone with blue eyes before I met you.” 

“Huh. Blue eyes are thought to be a genetic mutation which happened sometime in the...last six to ten thousand years...after the Ancients left Pegasus for Earth. It must be exclusive to the Milky Way, maybe even to Earth.” 

“It is a unique and beautiful feature,” says Teyla. “It would be a favourable trait to a potential parent.” 

“It wouldn’t be any use for a few generations though. The gene is recessive, you need two of them to actually have blue eyes.” 

“It’s also a non issue because  _ you’re not renting out your womb  _ Rodney,” says John, and he can’t believe he actually has to say that. “Can we go back to Atlantis now?” 

“Oh, before we go, I want to show you what I got,” says Rodney. 

Teyla turns to Rodney with a scowl. “Rodney-” 

“I know, I know, you said no trading without you. But I found something important, look.” Rodney opens a pocket on the front of his Tac-Vest and takes out an intact Ancient data crystal. “It’s not from Atlantis. I hooked it up to my tablet, it’s from a sister city called Discenna.” 

“Okay. That’s actually kind of interesting,” says John. 

“It gets better, the symbol for Discenna was in the database fragment I brought back from the lab. And this data crystal? It has a scientific archive on it. I’m hoping that Radek will find something relating to the lab’s activities on it.” 

“That’s a convenient find, McKay,” says John. He doesn’t believe in coincidences. 

“Not so much convenient as fortuitous. I wouldn’t have taken more than a passing interest in it if I hadn’t recognised that symbol. Not all ancient tech is valuable. Some is junk.” 

“What did you trade for it?” asks Teyla. 

“I gave her my digital watch. I have two more in my quarters. It’s not something I couldn’t live without.” 

“You should have waited for me, Rodney.” 

“I know, but I couldn’t risk it being snapped up by someone else.” Rodney returns the crystal to his pocket. 

“Very well. Perhaps we should return to Atlantis. I am looking forward to telling Doctor Weir about our successes.” 

“Hah! She’s going to be so proud of us,” says Rodney, and he passes the last of his food to Ronon who finishes it in a few bites. “Usually someone is bleeding out by now. This is a pleasant change.” 

They head back through the stalls to the Stargate. There are some interesting things on display; foods John has never seen before, a whole rainbow of tunics and footwear, bladed weapons with intricately carved handles and shining metalwork. As they get closer to the ‘gate, it gets more crowded, John finds himself nudged in multiple directions, pushed away from his team in an unstoppable flow of people and it isn’t long before John loses sight of Teyla and Ronon altogether. He taps his earpiece as he grabs the loop on Rodney’s Tac-Vest. 

“Teyla, Ronon, I’ve lost visual on you. Sitrep?” 

“I am with Ronon, Colonel,” replies Teyla. “We are heading towards the Stargate.” 

“We’ll meet up there.” John pulls closer to Rodney and shouts over the din. “McKay, if we get separated, head to the gate.” 

Rodney’s nods. He’s leading John forward through the horde of people, but the force of the bodies proves too much and Rodney is torn from John's grasp. John taps his earpiece again. 

“McKay? Where are you?…McKay? Head to the ‘gate...Shit...Teyla, do you have eyes on McKay? 

“I cannot see him, Colonel.” 

“Me neither, hang on.” 

John pushes through the crowd to the side and climbs up one of the stalls to look over the heads of the crowd. It’s bustling, the motion of all those heads bobbing is like waves at sea and John fears it’s going to be impossible to pick out an individual until he spots someone pushing out of the crowd and sees Rodney being pulled along by yet another strange man.  _ Shit, fuck.  _

“Teyla, Ronon, I see McKay, he’s at the North-East edge of the crowd. Can you circle around?” 

“We’re on our way,” says Ronon. 

John looks down at the crowd, and -  _ fuck -  _ it’s going to take too long to push through them. But he’s a pilot; why go through if you can go over? He pulls himself on top of the awning. It’s sturdy enough to hold his weight, he’ll probably manage across the marketplace without disaster if he’s quick and careful. He hops to the next stall, landing on the fabric hard but it holds so he hops to the next, then the next, stumbling frequently but making it all the way across. He can see Ronon and Teyla getting closer as he jumps down from the last stall and pushes through the last of the people. Rodney is up ahead, shouting at the man. John's almost there, he calls out -  _ Get your fucking hands off Rodney!  _ \- but they don’t hear him over the din. He can just make out what they’re shouting as he gets closer. 

“...last time, let go!” 

“Wait, please. If you’ll just listen-” 

John doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t stop to think; he pulls back his arm and throws a punch at the man’s face, and as man’s head snaps back he drops Rodney’s arm and falls on his ass. John steps in front of Rodney, throws an arm out to keep him back and out of harm's way. Ronon arrives and pulls out his blaster and Teyla asks a passer-by to fetch Pherea. 

“What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?!” John yells at the man, whose hands are held over his nose. It's gushing so much blood he can’t contain it. 

“I was just...I wanted to...talk...you hit me!” 

“You had your hands on Rodney! You’re damn lucky I didn’t shoot you!” 

Pherea approaches. “Oh my goodness, what has happened?” she asks. 

“This man was-” 

“I was only talking!” 

“-you were dragging my team-member into an alleyway!” 

Rodney steps round John and puts a hand on his arm. “Colonel, I’m fine. He really only wanted to talk to me.” 

Pherea steps forward. “Gerion, explain yourself!” 

“I just wanted to talk...ask about a procreation contract. I wouldn’t have hurt her, I swear!” 

“When you asked her, what did she say?” 

“She said no, but-” 

“Then there was nothing else to discuss. You know the rules; you can ask anyone who comes through the stargate, but you never, ever, put pressure on anyone.” Pherea turns to Rodney. “I am sorry you were caused distress.” 

“I don’t think...Gerion?...would have tried to hurt me. I think he just got...uh...carried away. And Colonel Sheppard...well, where we come from it’s never a good thing to be forced into an alleyway by a stranger.” 

“I understand,” says Pherea. “Perhaps we should see this as a cultural misunderstanding? I would feel aggrieved if anything were to terminate our trade agreement.” 

“We do not consider the actions of an individual to represent the intentions of entire planet,” says Teyla, ever the diplomat. “I hope you feel similarly.” 

“I am relieved to hear that, Teyla. We are in agreement.” 

Gerion gets up, wincing a little but his nose has stopped bleeding. “I am truly sorry if I scared you,” he says to Rodney, sincerely. Rodney looks pointedly at John, who ignores him until he feels a sharp poke in the ribs. 

“And...uh...I’m sorry I punched you.” It’s the best he can do under the circumstances. He still has the urge to shoot the fucker. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The city Discenna is a canon city ship like Atlantis. It features in Hermiod's Last Mission.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, you’re the one who insists you aren’t a lady, McKay. You want me to treat you like Princess Peach, just say the word.”
> 
> Glute shots and lip locks.

“Ow!” yells Rodney. “Ow, Carson, OW!” 

They’re in the infirmary and Rodney is being treated for a knee scrape. It turns out when Gerion dragged him through the crowd he tripped and landed on his knees. On Earth that would be a non-issue, but they’ve learned that broken skin in Pegasus can lead to weird and wonderful infections (on one occasion a tiny scratch on the tip of a finger lead to a lower arm amputation for one of the scientists) so Carson insists everyone gets some shots whenever they scrape something. Rodney is bent over a raised bed in the infirmary, leaning on his forearms, trousers and underwear pushed down so Carson can administer a series of intramuscular injections into his gluteus maximus. John normally hangs around and teases him in this position, and Rodney will be put out if he doesn't do it this time just because the ass is a little different. He’s trying his best to keep a smirk in place, struggling to think up some smart comment about asses and needles and tiny pricks but he isn’t feeling it and he knows it shows. He can’t quite give a name to his feelings, but they’ve interrupted the easy rhythm between him and Rodney, and if Rodney’s repeated, confused looks are anything to go by, he’s feeling it too. 

“Quit whining ya big baby,” says Carson. “I’m almost done.” 

“That’s five shots, Carson, five! Why do I need so many?” 

“Maybe it’s because you have such a big ass?” drawls John._ Okay, not his best work but it’ll do. _

“Oh, har har har,” says Rodney. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to say that to a lady.” 

“Hey, you’re the one who insists you aren’t a lady, McKay. You want me to treat you like Princess Peach, just say the word.” _ Better, maybe there’s hope for him yet? _

“On second thought I...OW!” 

“Last one Rodney,“ says Carson. He disposes of the last needle and snaps off his gloves. “I’ll leave you to get sorted while I update your records. Back in a mo.” 

John averts his eyes as Rodney stands up to pull his clothes up. “You sure you’re ok Rodney?” he asks. 

“I’m fine, Colonel,” says Rodney, buckling his belt. “You know, you didn’t have to hit Gerion so hard.” 

“Yeah, I kinda did.”_ He really did, that asshole had it coming. _

“No, you didn’t. You had a gun, you could have just waved it around a bit.” 

“You had a gun too, McKay. Why didn’t you use it?” 

“Oh, I...uh...huh. I kind of forgot I had it.” 

“Look...in the field it’s my job to protect you. I’m supposed to keep you from being snatched and I totally fucked that one up and you...you ended up in a potentially dangerous situation.” 

Rodney steps forward. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not your fault, not even a little bit. Besides, he really only wanted to talk.” 

“This time, Rodney. What about next time?” 

“Yeah, no, we’re not going down the ‘what if’ route.” Rodney grabs John’s arms with both hands, and John can feel a scorching heat where their skin is touching. Suddenly the air between them is vibrating with tension, his heart hammering in his chest. “I'm fine, you're fine, Teyla and Ronon are fine, we got a good deal and I _ maybe _got my ticket back to my own body. That was the most successful mission we’ve ever had. Snap out of it Sheppard.” 

John lifts his eyes and stares, breathless, over Rodney’s shoulder at the crumpled folds of the blanket he was leaning on when he got his shots. “If something happened to you because I wasn’t...I don’t think I could-” 

Carson’s footsteps echo on the hard floor, and Rodney lets go and steps back from John, but the tension between them doesn’t dissipate. 

“Right Rodney, that’s everything in order,” says Carson as he slides the screen open. “You can go, but I want you to come back if you get any symptoms; fever, headache, blurred vision, palpitations, swelling, shortness of breath-” 

“Yes, yes, I know the symptoms of infection and anaphylaxis, Carson,” barks Rodney, but without his usual level of sarcasm. He waves a hand. “C’mon Sheppard, let’s get the debrief over with.” 

Rodney rushes out the infirmary and John jogs to catch up. “So, uh, what are we going to say to Elizabeth?” 

“I figure you could stretch the truth a little. Say you couldn’t see his hands; thought he might have had a weapon?” 

“That’s...not a bad idea.” 

“Better than saying you lost your damn mind.” 

“Rodney, I really thought-” 

“I know, I know. Things are starting to make a little sense...” 

“Well, maybe you can clue me in cause nothing’s making sense to me at the moment.” 

“We can talk later. Debrief first.” 

*** 

Elizabeth is so pleased with the trade agreement she forgoes raking John over the coals for the assault. John wonders if she’d have done the same thing in his place. He knows any of his men would have; the instinct to protect women from the unwelcome touch of strange men is hard wired into all of them. Or maybe she just understands the situation better than he managed to explain it? While Teyla takes Elizabeth through the finer (and more tedious) details of the agreement, John comes to a realisation; if Rodney had been in his old body, he would still have done it, would still have felt the fear and the uncontrollable rage,_ how dare he put his hands on Rodney _, he would still have slammed his fist into the guy’s face and relished the feel of shattering bone as Gerion’s nose collapsed under the force. When John had told Rodney before that he didn’t feel differently about him, he had been telling the truth. Nothing has changed about his feelings, but he thinks maybe he has a new perspective on them. He’s not entirely sure what it means or what he should do about it, but he does know everything has changed and it isn’t going to go back no matter what happens with Rodney’s body. 

“John?” says Elizabeth, snapping John from his thoughts. “I take it you can be trusted not to get in another fistfight if you go back to Elphii.” 

“It wasn’t so much a fist-fight-” begins Rodney. 

“Not helping, McKay,” hisses John. He settles has face into something he hopes looks contrite. “It was a momentary lapse in judgement, it won't happen again Elizabeth.” 

“I’m not without sympathy, but it could have cost us a favourable alliance. I need you to be sure John.” 

“I am.” 

“Okay,” says Elizabeth, and John knows it won’t be brought up again; Elizabeth’s fair like that. “Great work guys, I mean it. We’ve not had such an cordial first contact since we met the Athosians.” 

“It was a pleasant change not to be chased back to the Stargate,” says Teyla. 

“Good food,” adds Ronon with a grin. “Speaking of which, I brought you something back.” He takes a rattling pouch out of a pocket and hands it to Elizabeth. She opens it and takes out something small, hard, transparent and amber. “It’s a type of sweet made from boiled sugar. Tastes like a native Elphiian fruit. Thought you might like it.” 

Elizabeth smiles. “Ronon, this is a lovely gift. Thank you.” 

“Can we go now?” asks Rodney, ever impatient. His mind's probably already in the lab. 

“Alright everyone. Well done.” 

*** 

John heads to his office to type up his mission report on Elphii. It’ll go a long way to making it up to Elizabeth if he gets his paperwork done in on-time for once. He pads out the report with observations and speculation. The Elphiians were very friendly and welcoming, not at all suspicious of outsiders, which is unusual in itself, but they were also joyful and celebratory, as though the existence of the Wraith didn’t trouble them. They know of the Wraith of course, but haven’t had a culling in living memory. Teyla had warned Pherea that they are active once more, but she hadn’t seemed concerned. She told them the Elphiians refuse to live in fear, that they won’t become a shadow of themselves waiting to be culled. John writes a recommendation to offer military and relocation assistance to the Elphiians in his report, but he’s pretty sure they will refuse any help Atlantis offers. 

When Rodney comes to find him later in his room, John is ready and waiting. He knew this was coming; Rodney's given him more time and space than he expected, but no one would accuse Rodney McKay of being a patient man. 

“Debrief went well, I thought,” says Rodney. 

“Didn’t get detention.” 

“I totally thought she was going to ground you. That would be bad. I don’t want to have to break in another military officer.” 

John rolls his eyes. “I’m not broken in.” 

“No, I suppose you’re not...” Rodney pauses and looks around the room, probably looking for a delicate way to say whatever’s on his mind. “John. Tell me what you think is going on here? You’re not a dumb grunt, you don’t usually go around punching people.” 

“I don’t know, I just... I don’t think I could...” 

Rodney grabs his arms like he did in the infirmary. “Look at me.” 

John looks at Rodney’s face, takes in his furrowed brow and his long eyelashes and slanted mouth and tries not to look at his big blue eyes but he gets sucked in, and before he can stop to think about it, he leans forward and presses his lips to Rodney’s. Rodney closes his eyes and presses back, soft lips and strong pressure, squeezing John’s biceps with his hands. They both pull back and press their foreheads together, an imitation of an Athosian greeting. 

Rodney speaks first. “Oh, that-” 

But John realises what he’s just done -_ fuck fuck fuck shit fuck _– and bolts out the door, never mind that it’s his own room he’s rushing from. He runs. Out past the mess hall and down the stairs, down, down, until he reaches the double doors out to the South West pier. It’s raining and the ground is wet enough that he skids every few steps, but he doesn’t break his pace, just puts one foot in front of the other, each breath in synch with the pounding of his feet on the ground, feeling the wind chill on his damp skin and through his t-shirt. There’s nothing out here but him and the rain. No Rodney, no strong hands gripping him, no soft lips on his own, no warm breath on his face. 

John is completely unsurprised when Ronon tracks him down not long after he’s collapsed at the end of the pier. He doesn’t say anything, just sits next to John’s prone form and hands over a bottle of water. John sits up to drink, grateful for it even though it’s still raining and there’s no shortage of cold water falling from the sky. 

“Did Rodney send you?” 

“Yup.” 

“Did he tell you why?” 

“Nope.” 

“You didn’t tell him where to find me?” 

“Thought it’d be better if I found you first.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Fine.” Ronon whacks John’s leg with the back of his hand. 

“Hey! What’s that for?” 

“McKay said to hit you till you went back.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Why?” 

John debates not saying anything, but it might actually be a relief to say it out loud. “I kissed him.” 

Ronon looks at John, surprised. “You did?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Bout time.” 

_ Wait, what _? “It is?” 

“So why are you moping? Go back and kiss him again.” 

“Just like that?” 

“Just like that.” 

“And...and you’re fine with it.” 

“Duh.” 

“Oh my god.” 

“Get going Sheppard.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So...wait, all this, it’s not just the body?” 
> 
> Rodney makes John talk. About feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a note about Dr Ambrose at the end of the chapter.

John swings by Rodney’s room but it’s empty. He doesn’t really want to have this conversation in a public place so he heads back to his own room to grab his earpiece - he'll radio Rodney, ask him to come meet him - but when he opens his door, Rodney’s sitting on his bed, thumbing through War and Peace. 

Rodney puts the book down and stands up. “Hey.” 

“Hey,” says John, stumbling in the door and letting it close behind him. “So, are we okay?“ 

“Oh no, we’re not doing that manly avoidance thing.” Rodney pokes John in the chest. “You kissed me!” 

“I’m-“ 

“No take-backs, Colonel” 

John can’t stop himself, the corner of his mouth quirks up. “Take-backs?” 

Rodney waves his hand dismissively. “Yes, well, you’ll forgive me for not being my usual articulate, snappy self under the circumstances.” 

“Yeah, about those-“ 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t have-“ 

“Yes, you do, and yes, you should. I’ve been very patient with you Sheppard, I gave you time and space, I let you have your little freak out just now, but you’re a Lieutenant Colonel in the Air Force and the Military Commander of an intergalactic base so I know you know how to pull it together.” 

“I-” 

“I’ve seen you stare down a Wraith Queen _ and _ you eat Teyla’s cooking without so much as an eye twitch _ and _ there was that time you flew a ‘jumper on a suicide run, which is something I’d rather not think about ever again, thank you for making me say it. So really there’s no excuse for this...cowardice.” 

“Right, but-” 

“I’m your friend, you have no reason to be afraid of me.” 

“If you’d let me get a word in, McKay!” snaps John. 

“Oh, sorry. Shutting up now.” Rodney bites his lip, as though to keep any stray sounds from escaping. 

“I just...I didn’t know. I mean I kind of did but I didn’t, you know?” 

Rodney nods and gestures with his hands, and John can almost hear the _ yes, yes, get on with it__, _but John doesn’t know what to say, so he just opens his mouth and hopes for the best. 

“We’ve always been close...I care about you a lot, I always have, you know that. I just...I never...it didn’t occur to me that it might mean something more than I thought it did but then...I’ve seen the way everyone’s been looking at you, don’t pretend you haven’t noticed it too, and then Gerion was pulling you away and I was so angry and afraid, that’s why I punched him. I’ve always hated it when you were hurt or in danger, but I didn’t realise what it meant...and then your body was suddenly different and it gave me perspective...showed me that there were possibilities that I hadn’t considered, that I _ should _ have considered. I-I didn’t know I was going to kiss you but in hindsight I’m surprised I didn’t do it a long time ago.” 

Rodney’s looking over John's shoulder with his problem-solving face on. John doesn’t want to push so he waits him out and lets him catch up with his rambling even though he feels exposed and vulnerable, a little like throwing up and a lot like he’s just pulled his heart out of his chest. But as the seconds pass the silence starts to get to him and if Rodney doesn’t look at him, doesn’t put him out of his misery he might have to- 

“So you’ve...a long time?” Finally, _ finally_, Rodney looks up. “So...wait, all this, it’s not just the body?” 

“Not so much, no.” 

“It’s me?” 

“Of course it’s you Rodney. The body doesn’t matter either way. You’re still you.” 

“Actually, it really does matter. This isn’t my body John. I like you a lot. I always have. I was never oblivious to it, actually I was always painfully aware of it, I just didn’t think you were into guys, or...or me.” 

“Jesus. Just like that...you just say things like that, you make it look so easy.” 

“Oh, did you want me to tell Teyla to tell Ronon to tell you I like you back? Sorry to disappoint you. I prefer to be direct, there’s less room for misunderstandings that way.” 

“Okay.” 

Rodney paces across the room, turns, comes back. “So, are you bi?” 

“No.” 

“Gay?” 

“No.” 

“Uh...what’s the modern term...uh...pan?” 

“No, Rodney, I’m straight.” 

“Right, of course, but, current situation aside, I’m a man.” 

“I know.” 

“So, uh, what you’re saying is you’re straight but you like me even though I’m a man.” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay, but have you ever been with a guy before?” 

“Um, no.” 

“No youthful kiss, no collage experimentation, no military hand jobs, nothing?” 

“No. I mean, I’ve had offers but I was never interested. You’re just, you know-” 

“I'm what, irresistibly charming? So handsome you can’t help but be curious? Oh, come on John!” Rodney’s on the defensive, and John realises that Rodney feels just as vulnerable as he does, he just hides it a little too well behind his verbal bulldozing and snark. _Shit._ They’re having a moment here, and John doesn’t know if he has the skill to not fuck this up royally. 

“No! Rodney, no, that’s not it. Look...I get you and you get me and I’ve always wanted to punch anyone that hurts you and I like how you have no filter and no poker face but you’re still surprised every time I beat you at chess and there’s no one else in two galaxies that I can share my work life _ and _ personal life _ and _my tent with and not want to smother in their sleep and goddammit Rodney that’s gotta mean something cause even with Nancy I wanted to smother her and she didn’t snore like you do and I was deployed for a lot of our marriage and I wish there had been another man at some point because I would have recognised this for what it is but there wasn’t and I didn’t and I’m sorry it took me so long but I figured it out and that was the best damn kiss of my life...Fuck, Rodney, say something.” 

“No one’s ever...uh” Rodney swallows. “No one’s ever said anything like that about me before.” 

John puts his hands on Rodney’s shoulders. “Never?” 

“No. You...you love me.” It’s not a question, John thinks that maybe Rodney is starting to get it. 

“Yeah Rodney, I do.” 

“You’re my best friend.” 

“I am.” 

“That’s important.” 

“It is.” 

“So...this is...” Rodney pulls away, crosses his arms. “We’re not done talking about this, but it can wait till I get my body back.” 

That is absolutely not what John was expecting to happen here. “Hang on, what?” 

“Because I want this, I want you, but I need to be sure...I need _ you _ to be sure John. I’m a man, you’re straight, that’s a big deal.” 

“Rodney-” 

“No, John. I need to be sure you’ll still feel this way when I get my dick back.” 

“I will.” 

“It’s not that I think you’re lying, but this is new and the timing is questionable and I’m...our friendship is the most important relationship of my life, John. I can’t risk it unless I'm absolutely certain. Because you can love your best friend without wanting to be with them and this body might be confusing things. And if it is, that’s fine, we can still go back, but if we mess this up...I mean you did just kiss me and run away.” 

“Okay. Okay, I get it. My feelings aren’t gonna change, they just took me by surprise, but I get where you’re coming from and I respect it.” 

“Okay. So...” 

“So, all I have to do now is _ not _ kiss you. I’ve been doing that for years. How hard can it be?” 

*** 

It turns out to be a lot harder than John expects. It’s not that he sees Rodney more than usual, but Rodney’s mouth is suddenly everywhere he looks. In meetings with Elizabeth it’s twisted into a smug smile that John wants to kiss off his face. In the mess it’s constantly mobile - chewing and drinking and talking - and John finds himself at dinner staring at Rodney’s upper lip, wanting to lick the moisture away after he takes a drink of water. In the lab it’s wide and demanding and loud, and John wants it around his dick so badly he has to about face and head to his room (his hand is in his pants almost before the door closes, head against the wall, fisting himself once, twice, and it’s so fast and intense that he gets light headed and needs to sit down). This thing with Rodney is Pandora's box, now that the lid’s off he can’t put it back on, and it’s got him turned upside down and inside out. But he has an entire expedition to keep safe and he can’t be constantly distracted like some teenager. He has to calm the fuck down and do his duty until either Rodney gets his body back or discovers that he can’t. John hopes that if it’s the latter Rodney will still want to talk about this, but what he wants most of all is the former; when he imagines them together it’s Rodney’s own body that fills his thoughts, his masculine hands grabbing John’s hips, his dick hard against John’s stomach, his stubble scraping John’s thighs. After a life-time of exclusively appreciating the female form, he can honestly say he didn’t see this one coming. 

*** 

In the end it’s a matter of time and patience. Radek radios them one morning and asks for a meeting ASAP, and John knows from his urgency that Rodney will finally be put out of his misery one way or the other. 

“Doctor Zelenka, you asked for this meeting, so you have the floor,” says Elizabeth when they are all seated. 

“Thank you, Doctor Weir,” says Radek. “We have had much luck with the crystal Rodney brought back from M2A-983. A lot of the material from the lab was raw data, and the information on the crystal has helped us make more sense of it.” He takes off his glasses and cleans them mindlessly with the hem of his shirt. “There is no delicate way to say this, the Ancients in the lab were doing more than observing, they were...plést se do...uh...meddling ...interfering, secretly, with the sex ratio of the population on a planet.” 

The whole table pauses in stunned silence. John’s read about various population control initiatives throughout Earth’s recent history, most of which revolved around eugenics; targeting indigenous people and the poor with mass sterilisation of both men and women through incentives, coercion or force. During his service he’s seen first-hand the devastating effects of enough assaults against women - by individual men and governing groups trying to control their reproductive autonomy in both directions (forced pregnancy and forced terminations) - to know it’s still a widespread issue despite efforts to invoke human rights globally. Whatever methods the Ancients used would most likely be cleaner than rape, kitchen table abortions, or culling female babies, but that makes it no less horrific. 

Ronon breaks the silence. “So, what are we looking at.” 

“The natural sex ratio was heavily skewed, for every female child born there were four male children. There is no concrete hypothesis as to why this was occurring. The scientists were attempting to ‘fix’ it by changing the sex of some of the newborn males at birth. There is mention of medical personnel offering maternity assistance to the natives, taking them to M2A-983 to give birth at the lab and secretly changing the sex of newborns before handing them back to the parents. Always male to female.” 

“But why the secrecy?” asks Rodney. “Why not just offer something simple like IVF? Surely the local population was aware of the issue and would have welcomed a little help.” 

“The Ancients weren’t known for their scientific ethics,” says Elizabeth. “The bottom line with them was knowledge. Simplicity and human rights wouldn’t have come in to it.” 

“In the Milky Way, covert population interference is considered to be on par with genocide on most planets,” says Lorne. 

“The peoples of Pegasus would find it equally objectionable,” says Teyla, face tight with anger. “The thought that anyone would presume to interfere with something so...so...they are no better than the Wraith!” 

“If it is any consolation Teyla, I do not believe this was a widespread study,” says Zelenka. “There is much observational data from across the galaxy, yes, but there is very limited experimental data. There is only one planet where they actually interfered with the natural order of things, and I think the outpost was shut down because of it; not long after it starts all the experimental data ends suddenly.” 

“So, what, a group of scientists gone rogue?” asks John. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“It could be, says Elizabeth. “We know the Ancients weren’t as harmonious as they pretended to be. Look at how badly Janus’ research was received.” 

“Okay. What does this mean for Rodney?” asks Carson. “Can the console be used to change him back?” 

“Yes,” says Radek, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“What, really?” asks Rodney. His head whips round and John can’t help but grin at the way his face lights up. 

“It’s actually remarkably simple, now that I have studied the data crystal. The console just needs to be reprogrammed. It wasn’t set up to go the other way. It will take me a couple of days to write the necessary coding, but yes, it can be done.” 

“Well that’s great news!” says Elizabeth, and everyone at the table looks both pleased and relieved. Rodney’s going to be himself again. John tries to keep the relief off his face, but it must be showing because when they make eye contact, Rodney smiles at him. 

“Give us two days, maybe three, and we will be ready,” says Radek. 

“Alright, meeting adjourned,” says Elizabeth. “Good work Radek.” 

“Um...actually, Elizabeth, Carson, John...could you hang on a minute?” says Rodney, hesitantly. 

“What is it Rodney?” asks Elizabeth, when everyone else has left. 

“It's just that, well, one of my scientists, Doctor Ambrose? She might, you know...benefit from the device. If it’s something she wants to do. I’ve not asked, and she’s not mentioned it. It’s just, well, she’s had a male body her whole life, and yes, she’s had some limited treatment on Earth, but this could be an opportunity for her to be, uh, happier? I miss my own body and I’ll be really glad to get it back; she’s never had hers, not really. I’d like to give her the chance before we go changing the programming in case we break something.” 

“What do you think Carson?” asks Elizabeth. “From a medical perspective.” 

“I’d like to have input from Doctor Heightmeyer, but considering that Rodney wasn’t adversely affected, medically speaking, from the change I have no professional objections.” 

“John?” 

“You’re kidding, right?” exclaims John. “It’s her personal life and she’s a civilian, it’s not a matter for the military. What possible objection could I have?” 

“Are there any security concerns?” 

“No. As long as her personnel file is accurate it makes no difference. Elizabeth.” 

“Alright,” says Elizabeth. “Rodney, you can ask her.” 

“That’s great!” says Rodney, then he taps his earpiece. “Doctor Ambrose, meet me in my lab in five minutes.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a real Dr Ambrose in the show, but all we know about them is they give Swedish massages and Radek won one playing chess. 
> 
> I wanted to have her in as a main character with an active role from the beginning of the fic, but every time I wrote her it felt contrived. Call it a lack of skill or experience on my part. I'm comfortable writing (and even altering) established characters but bringing in a new character and giving her that much life without anything in the show to back me up is a little beyond my current abilities. So she's only mentioned in passing; what's written is purely from Rodney's perspective, and his feelings and considerations having shared that experience in some small way. I debated her inclusion a lot, because it's so passive and I'd hate for her to seem like a plot device, but it just doesn't seem likely to me that an expedition that big wouldn't have a trans person in it's number, and what happens to Rodney is significant enough to affect anyone who has cause to want to change their body. 
> 
> It's intended with grace, I can't be sure if I succeeded, so...if something feels off or problematic, please feel free to let me know.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And you think I’m the one who ‘just says things’.” 
> 
> Stubble and omnipotence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, wow, it's been just over a month since I posted the first chapter. Thank you to everyone for your lovely comments and kudos and Tumblr PMs, (and oh my goodness I never imagined I'd ever have that many subscriptions on a work). I hope you enjoy the last chapter. 
> 
> (Sorry the chapter count kept changing, but when I write sometimes the characters do things that I didn't plan out. Just how I roll I guess!)

John doesn’t go to M13-732 with Rodney. Radek tells him in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t want John’s ‘supergene’ anywhere near the technology that caused the transformation. Lorne’s barred from going for the same reason, so John puts Cadman in charge of the trip and hand picks a team without the gene for her to command. When she points out that his choice of team has _'some of the hardest asses in the marine corps, sir, are you expecting trouble?' _he realises he isn’t fooling anyone. The last time his team went off-world without him, Rodney got in trouble and John is just as apprehensive this time round. This is the very last time John stays at home while his team goes through the gate; next time he can’t go the mission gets postponed. 

John knows he’s getting on Chuck’s nerves, hanging around in the gate-room all morning waiting for them to come back, but Chuck’s too diplomatic to say anything except to offer to grab him a coffee _'if __you wouldn't mind __watch__ing__ the communications console for a minute__, sir’._ He stashed his gear in Elizabeth’s office just in case they need his assistance off world, but he can’t really justify gearing up preemptively - it tends to put his men on edge to see their commanding officer armed to the nines on base. As the morning progresses more people arrive in the control tower, ostensibly to do repairs, or to talk to him or Elizabeth, but no one actually leaves. There is a noisy crowd on the balcony of the gate-room by the time the Stargate activates, half the science team and a good number of off-duty military personnel. The excited chatter dies instantly when Chuck confirms Cadman’s IDC. 

Rodney steps through the event horizon flanked closely by Ronon, Teyla and Radek, and surrounded by Cadman’s men. He's back in his own body, narrow hips and broad shoulders and receding hairline, big hands and a week’s worth of stubble and, hilariously, an awkwardly hip-swaying gait. John’s heart pounds with relief as he rushes down the stairs to greet them, and cheers and whistles erupt from the balcony as everyone present sets eyes on Rodney. Rodney’s not one to suffer such scrutiny in silence though, and true to form, he has something to say to get off his chest. 

“You know, most guys think it would be really cool to be a woman for a day, but it’s hard work. I didn’t appreciate how all the stupid little things can build up and make things ten times harder than they actually need to be. There are going to be some changes in the science division that I hope will trickle into the other departments on Atlantis. Starting with government issue hot water bottles for every single person that menstruates so nobody has to go without when both the ones on base are already in use, thank you Cadman for that tip. And before anyone asks, no I’m not gonna miss the breasts. I’m pretty sure you if you forced someone to wear a bra for 168 hours straight you could get them to confess to being the Yorkshire Ripper. Thanks for everyone’s hard work getting my body back. I’m taking the rest of the day off.” 

He squeezes John’s arm, then rushes to a transporter and is gone before anyone can stop him to ask annoying questions. John attends while Cadman and Radek debrief Elizabeth, then makes his excuses to everyone and heads to Rodney’s quarters. When he opens the door, Rodney is lying on the floor on his front, straining under the bed for something just out of reach. 

“Need a hand?” 

“No...no...I just...c’mon...gotcha,” Rodney gets up. “I dropped my razor, kicked it under the bed by accident.” 

“Uh, hang on, you’re not going to shave already are you?” 

Rodney scrubs his jaw. “This is way more stubble that I’ve ever been comfortable with.” 

“I...kinda like it? Maybe it could, you know, stay for a while?” 

“Oh, why?” 

“I have this thing, I want to feel your stubble on my skin.” John didn’t mean to blurt that out. He can feel his face heating up and wonders why he said that, Rodney is surely going to say something mocking. 

Rodney giggles, actually giggles, his smile lighting up his face. “And you think I’m the one who ‘just says things’.” 

“I’ve been thinking about it for days,” John admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things.” 

“Yeah, me too,” says Rodney, and he looks around the room with an expression of unease. “Listen, about, you know, I just want you to know...what you just said notwithstanding, it’s okay for it not to be okay. That I’m changed back I mean-” 

“Rodney. It’s more than okay.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. God, you’re back. Not that you were gone, just...” 

“It wasn’t the worst thing that can happen in the grand scheme of things, not compared to being devoured by a Wraith or held in a Genii bunker till you’re riddled with tumours. I would have been okay if I was stuck in that body forever, it just wasn’t me and I...eh...I don’t know. I’m just so grateful to be in my own body again.” 

“I’m glad too, buddy.” 

Rodney scrutinises John’s face. “Yeah, you are, aren’t you? That’s actually a surprise.” 

“Rodney, this is new to me but...I’m not afraid of your dick. I have a dick. I’ve seen _your _dick. Hell, I’ve touched it, remember the tick-things on P1X-” 

"Bzztt! I thought we agreed never to talk about that again!” 

“My point is, I’m not going to freak out by this, by us. I mean if there is an us. I’m assuming there’s an us?” 

“Oh, there’s an us,” growls Rodney. 

“Great! That’s great. Wow, okay, uh, great.”_ Oh well done John, very articulate. _

Rodney steps towards John and takes hold of both John’s wrists, grinning with amusement. “You really have a way with words, don’t you?” 

“Um...not - ahem - not so much right now.” 

“Does this bashful routine work on the ascended women?” 

“Oh, c’mon Rodney, I-” 

“-’never see it coming’, yeah, I know. Just so you’re not taken by surprise, I’m going to kiss you now.” 

Rodney’s hands slide up John’s arms, one slipping to the back of his neck and the other to his face, stroking his fingers down his temple and curling around his jaw, soft, teasing touches, breath warm on John’s face. But John's been waiting for days, he’s too impatient and he pulls Rodney closer by the hips and captures Rodney’s mouth. Rodney doesn’t miss a beat, he opens his mouth and lets John’s tongue pass his lips and meet his own as he grabs John’s waist and pulls them to the bed. They tumble down and Rodney pushes John onto his back and straddles him, pulling John’s t-shirt over his head with one hand, immediately leaning down to press uncountable soft kisses to John’s mouth, plump lips, rough stubble and flickering tongue. He’s slowing them down, deliberately, and it’s winding John up even more. 

“You really don’t need to be so gentle with me,” says John breathlessly between kisses. 

“Hmmm...you want me to be rough?” 

“Uh, n-no not so much.” 

“Thought not.” Rodney smiles into a final kiss then sits up and takes off his own top. “How about you just let me drive this time?” 

“Yes, sir. Shutting up, sir.” 

Rodney rolls his eyes so hard he almost rolls out of the bed with them. He leans down and drags his jaw across the side of John’s face. “So where exactly did you want my stubble?” 

The sensation is electrifying and John struggles to make sense of the question. “Uh...anywhere...I-” 

“No, no, that was too specific a comment to have come from nowhere. What have you been thinking of since you kissed me?” His teeth get in on the action, soft little bites across John’s jaw and John’s never really been into biting but this is the hottest thing he’s ever felt. 

“It’s not...it’s...” 

Rodney’s nipping his teeth gently down his neck and along his collar bone. John’s pretty sure he’s going to go off before they even get going, like it’s his first time, and _actually,_ he muses,_it __kind of is._ “John, I’m about three minutes away from blowing you. I’m not going to laugh at whatever you’ve been thinking about.” 

“Oh God...Jesus...fuck...I just wondered...uh...how it would f-feel on my thighs.” 

“Oh my god,” says Rodney, grinding his hips down into John’s. “Yeah, yeah, let’s do that.” 

Rodney heads south and John’s focus narrows onto the raspy feel of Rodney’s stubble in counterpoint to his soft lips and his tongue tracking a path down John’s chest and stomach. Rodney pulls away suddenly and John protests against the withdrawal of sensation but Rodney presses a hard kiss to his stomach. 

“Hang on, I’m not going far,” says Rodney, as he moves to the end of the bed and starts on John’s laces. He pulls off John’s boots and makes a start on his BDU’s but John feels too vulnerable. 

“Wait, could you...” John licks his lips. “You too,” he says. 

Rodney doesn’t call himself the smartest man in two galaxies for no reason. He smiles knowingly as he stands and makes a start on his own laces. By the time he’s hopped out of his BDUs, standing naked at the end of the bed, John’s lying bare and exposed, feeling defenceless but safe. He’s not used to this level of exposure, he’s never had a lover scrutinise him so thoroughly, and it’s a little intimidating being the focus of all of Rodney’s attention, but it’s also thrilling and unbelievably hot. When Rodney climbs up the bed and parts his thighs he hears a high pitched noise, realises it came from his own mouth, and really it’s ridiculous that a Lieutenant Colonel in the USAF is _whimpering,_ it’s undignified and unmanly and _holyshitfuck_ Rodney’s scrapes his face across the skin on the inside of his thighs and John feels his higher brain functions unravel. It’s a hundred times better than he imagined, and by the time Rodney takes him in his mouth he’s a trembling wreck, digging his fingers into Rodney’s shoulders. His climax is a full body tremor and a litany of curses ending in a loud moan on a ragged exhale. 

Rodney shuffles up and lies next to him, pulling him into a full body embrace and rubbing his hands up and down John’s back and across the curve of his ass. John slides his hand down Rodney’s body as they kiss, touching him with experimental pulls. Despite Rodney’s jokes, John isn’t Cassanova. In fact, in all the time they’ve known each other, Rodney has had more sexual encounters than he has, and that’s just the women he knows about (how many men has he been with in secret?). John isn’t that experienced or confident a lover with women, and he’s afraid it’s going to show twice as much with a man. He searches for the right pressure, the right rhythm, something that’ll tip Rodney over the edge. 

“So...uh...you should tell me what feels good, what you like...” he begins, but Rodney suddenly keens, clawing at John’s shoulders, burying his face in his neck. “Or, Jesus, just keep making that noise.” And he knows he’s onto something good when Rodney falls onto his back and whimpers, whispering his name over and over -_ JohnJohnJohn __– _gripping the sheets and shuddering. Rodney’s orgasm hits hard and silent, and that’s a surprise for someone who’s so vocal all the time, but there’s no mistaking the blissful expression on his face as he relaxes into the sheets, or the warm, wet feeling in John’s hand. 

John pulls Rodney back into his arms, feeling a little smug and a lot relaxed, and they lay quietly for a while, wrapped up in each other, hands smoothing over skin, soft kisses and quiet sighs. But Rodney being Rodney, it’s only a matter of time before the stillness is broken. 

“Just so we’re clear, no more ascended or non-ascended women...or men...people,” he mumbles into John’s neck. 

“Not gonna be an issue, buddy.” 

“Okay. Good.” 

John sighs and stretches his arms up. “I should probably check in with Elizabeth and Lorne. I’m supposed to be on duty.” 

“Oh, um, shit. You should probably go.” 

“In a while.” John pushes Rodney onto his back and props his head up with one hand. “We’re going to have to tell Teyla.” 

“Oh, she knows.” 

“Uh, that was fast...I mean, I only just got here.” 

Rodney waves an arm. “Oh, no, I got an earful of obscure Athosian interpersonal relationship wisdom a few weeks ago. She knew before we did.” 

“So did Ronon, I think.” 

“Are they, like, always going to be omnipotent? Cause it would be nice to be able to keep something to myself once in a while.” 

“Hmm. Speaking of which, how is Doctor Ambrose?” 

“Actually, I don’t know if she went through with it or not. She hasn’t said yet. Whatever she decided, it’s a big deal.” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“As long as she’s happy, you know?” 

“Yeah,” says John, and he thinks maybe this is an appropriate time. “I, uh, I wanted to ask you something. When we were on the mainland a couple of weeks ago, did you and Halling-” John’s earpiece beeps, he leans back, grabs it from the floor and puts it in his ear. “This is Sheppard.” 

_ “Oh Colonel, sorry to bother you but there’s been an incident in the training room and Major Lorne has requested your presence.” _

“I’ll be right there, Chuck,” says John. He kisses Rodney on the lips and gets up. “Gotta go. Duty calls.” 

"Okay,” says Rodney. They both dress in a hurry, and John raises an eyebrow at Rodney. “I know, I know, I took the day off, but I should probably check in at the lab. You never know when someone will do something that blows a hole in Atlantis or drains all the energy out of one of the ZedPMs.” Rodney steals another kiss then palms open the door. 

“Hey, uh, can we pick this up later?” asks John. 

“Sure. Later.” 


End file.
